


Give + Take

by puckity



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Clothing Theft, Crushes, General Awkwardness, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-26
Updated: 2009-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-07 18:49:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1909842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puckity/pseuds/puckity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clothing theft is a serious problem in the Big Bang hostel. And that’s why Seunghyun is in the closet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Give + Take

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2009. I honestly have no idea as to why, in this fandom, my brain could only come up with Gilligan’s Island-esque plots.
> 
> Beta'd by the amazing Rachel.
> 
> You can also follow me on [Tumblr](http://puckity.tumblr.com/).

The bathroom door swung open and shut again, and a damp Youngbae appeared in the common room. Daesung glanced up briefly to see his hyung—just out of his post-workout shower—watching him and the other person in the room. The two of them were pointedly staying to their respective ends of the couch; a stretch of empty leather spread wide between them. Youngbae placed his hands on his hips and shook his head disapprovingly.

“Seungri, are we playing dress-up again?” From the other end of the couch Seungri looked up curiously. “What, hyung?”

Youngbae pointed accusingly at his chest. “That is another one of Jiyong’s shirts, isn’t it? You know he is very protective of his clothes.”

Seungri looked down at his outfit like maybe he’d forgotten what he’d put on this morning. “Oh, no this isn’t Jiyong’s. It’s yours, hyung.”

“It’s mine?” Youngbae’s head tilted to the side. “Magnae, why are you wearing _my_ clothes?” Daesung squirmed in his seat, hoping not to get caught in the middle of this. For his part, Seungri answered matter-of-factly.

“Because it looks better on me.” At Youngbae’s shocked expression he continued on calmly. “Your waist is too long for it, hyung. It fits my proportions better.”

“But—“ Youngbae seemed to be trying hard to stay reasonable. “But Seungri, it is still _my_ shirt. It isn’t polite to go around _stealing_ other people’s things.” He added a particular emphasis to his words.

“So why did you steal Jiyong-hyung’s underwear?”

Youngbae’s jaw dropped. “What are you—what are you talking about?”

Seungri pointed at Youngbae’s legs, and Daesung’s eyes followed. Sure enough, Youngbae was wearing an old pair of Jiyong’s boxers patterned with faded dancing ducks. Guilty color came up in splotches across his face.

“First of all, this isn’t underwear.” Youngbae’s hands unconsciously shielded his modesty. “Second of all, Jiyong gave these to me as a _gift_. It isn’t stealing if someone let’s you have it.”

“Oh yeah?” It sounded like more of a challenge than Seungri probably meant it to be. “Then why did I see hyung wearing those not-underwear yesterday?”

Youngbae looked utterly disgusted. “Ah, Jiyong!” He shouted at their absent leader. “Why do you never use the laundry basket like I ask you to?!”

Seungri grinned smugly as Youngbae marched back towards the bedrooms in search of a clean pair of maybe-underwear. Daesung silently thanked Seungri for his distraction that kept Youngbae from noticing Seunghyun’s sweatshirt on him.

\---

“And _that’s_ why I won’t wear glitter nail polish anymore.” Jiyong shoved the front door open—a substantial effort for his wiry body—and Seunghyun followed him inside, still mildly confused on how their manicure discussion had even started. Kicking off his shoes Jiyong called out, “Dongsaengs, we’re home!”

A voice echoed from the common room. “I’m not your dongsaeng, Jiyong!” Youngbae sounded irritated. Jiyong threw Seunghyun an exaggerated _oh boy…_ look before going in to face his grumpy friend. Seunghyun trudged after him, but not too closely.

Youngbae was curled up at one end of the couch. Or rather, he was forced to one end as Seungri had spread himself across the rest of it. The magnae snored lightly in a way that made his lips sporadically flutter and his whole face take on the appearance of painful naïveté. Seunghyun knew that was the only reason why Youngbae was now letting Seungri’s feet rest on his thighs.

Jiyong seemed to be taking in the whole scene. A cheshire smile split his face open. “Youngbae…you’re trying to kill me with cuteness, aren’t you?” Youngbae snorted derisively.

“Don’t you even start with me! Where were you two for dinner?” He jabbed an accusing finger at Seunghyun, who really didn’t want to have any part in this so he kept his mouth shut.

“The session ran late so we just got some kimbab.” Jiyong responded casually. “Why, did you have a _special_ meal planned for me?”

“No, but a message would have been nice—responsible even! Common courtesy, like sorting out your dirty clothes.” Youngbae glared at him. “Since you are, you know, the responsible leader and everything.”

“We eat at the studio during overtime all the time.” Jiyong waved his hand dismissively and gave Youngbae a placating look. “What’s really bothering you?”

“I told you.” Youngbae crossed his arms sullenly. “It’s not considerate. Something could have happened to you and how would we have known?” Jiyong smiled again and moved closer to the sofa.

“Youngbae,” he grazed his fingers across Youngbae’s bare shoulder. “Were you worried about me? You know I’m a big boy now and besides I have Seunghyun-hyung to protect me and hey—isn’t that my shirt?” Jiyong’s tone changed as he tilted his head to examine Seungri’s clothing.

“No,” Youngbae answered without interest. “It’s mine.” Jiyong gaped at him.

“This is getting ridiculous. First it was just with me, but now he is borrowing everyone else’s clothing too?” Jiyong stared at Seungri, still asleep, reproachfully.

“Stealing,” Youngbae corrected him. “He is temporarily stealing everyone else’s clothing.” Jiyong shook his head in disappointment.

“Really, this is your fault Jiyong,” Youngbae continued on, his tone regaining some of its irritated edge. “You baby him and let him get away with murder, and then act surprised when he does stuff like this.”

“Hey!” Jiyong’s voice rose sharply as he drew back from the couch. “Don’t you try and blame his character flaws on me! Besides, I’m not the only one who babies him—and at least _I_ interact with him like an adult and don’t avoid him like an immature _child_!”

From where he stood leaning against the wall, Seunghyun already knew that this was going to be one of _those_ fights. At least twenty minutes of cutting accusations and raised voices and other things that he really, really didn’t want to sit through before one of them (Youngbae, always Youngbae) would break and then there would be forty minutes to an hour of talking it out before they could reconcilingly cuddle against each other and watch a late-night rerun of some American sitcom. This was the template for the Jiyong-Youngbae deathmatch and it never differed. So before it got too far Seunghyun decided to make his escape.

He inched along the wall—not looking over towards the couch (where Youngbae was saying something about “obligations” and “positive role models”) for fear of catching eye contact—only the bedroom hallway in his sights. He passed the kitchen where someone with his back to him was washing the dishes. It must be Daesung, he concluded, unless they’d hired a maid behind his back. Just as Youngbae’s voice rose to a pitch Seunghyun dashed into the dark hallway and exhaled.

His room was at the end, its undecorated door beckoning to him. He walked towards it but stopped short, glanced at a door that had been left a crack open with cutouts of Doraemon and magazine scans of Hyori and the Wondergirls haphazardly taped to it. Daesung and Seungri’s room. Angry voices carried down the hallway; what was it that they were even fighting about again? Seungri taking other people’s clothes…

That reminded Seunghyun of something. He pushed that door open wider and cautiously stepped inside.

\---

“No way,” Daesung stood with as much intimidation as he could muster. All arms crossed and wide stance and serious hyung face. “I got here first, and I’m not gonna let you steal my hiding place like you stole that shirt.” Outside their closed bedroom door two voices shrieked wildly at each other.

“I. Did. Not. Steal. This. Shirt!” Exasperation punctuated Seungri’s words as he tore off the offending garment. “And you don’t have to worry about me _sharing_ your hiding place— _our_ room, hyung—because I’m just grabbing my towel and heading to the shower.” Daesung’s stance relaxed, but only a little. Seungri rolled his eyes and turned around, taking a deep breath before nervously reaching for the doorknob. After a few seconds’ hesitation he flung the door open and prepared to leap across the hallway and into the bathroom as quickly as was humanly possible.

“Hey, Seungri!” Perched on one hopping foot, Seungri turned back with an urgent and slightly panicked expression on his face. Daesung smiled sweetly. “Don’t forget to floss!” The slammed door did nothing to darken his grin.

With the room to himself—for at least forty-five minutes if Seungri’s bathroom routine could be trusted—Daesung swiftly moved into action. He locked the door and flicked off the lights, standing indecisively by the switch before turning one of the desk lamps back on. Then he moved to his bed and fiddled for a minute or so with his mp3-player-speaker-set- _thing_. The result was a particularly poppy SHINee song blasting across the room. As Daesung scrambled to fix both the volume and the song choice he could have sworn someone, somewhere, was laughing at him.

Finally a low beat started and Daesung looked around with an irrational sense of guilt. This song…how many times had he used it? He could remember exactly if he wanted to. But instead he slipped out of his pajama pants and lay back onto his cottony sheets, letting his hands inch slowly down his body, lingering against that big warm sweatshirt. And he waited for that feeling—like his stomach had dropped into his knees—to begin.

Above him that voice, that voice growled out:

“I’mma B. A. D. Big Bang da big boy…”

\---

Seunghyun was sure he wasn’t breathing. Pretty absolutely sure. So sure that he didn’t know how he could still be alive because he sure as hell hadn’t been breathing for (at least) the last five minutes and even if he had slept through every science and math class he’d ever taken he was pretty absolutely positively sure that person minus air times five minutes equaled dead.

But then again, he was totally sure that things like algebra and oxygen were trivial in a situation like this.

All Seunghyun had wanted to do was find the scarf collar that he knew Seungri had ‘borrowed’ from him last week. And maybe take one of his favorite t-shirts and borrow it right back, to teach the magnae a lesson about fashion thievery. Only looking through Seungri and Daesung’s closet he realized that all Seungri’s taste came from the wardrobe noonas or other members’ laundry piles. Then he saw a seriously cute jacket—it was embroidered with sequins so he knew it was Daesung’s—that he was fairly sure could fit him too. He was in the process of debating where he could realistically wear it away from Daesung’s wrath when the door began to open and before he had time to cleverly devise a plan (or a lie) he was crouching in the corner of the closet, still clinging to the sparkly coat.

He’d quickly conceded that a half hour of hiding in an uncomfortable position was well worth getting to dazzle the studio staff with his latest trendsetting style. He’d been so sure that it would only be a half hour too—especially after Seungri left—because really, other than falling asleep, what else could Daesung do for longer than that?

Actually it had probably only been fifteen minutes now, but the time rapidly became a non-issue. At first Seunghyun told himself that he was mistaken. He was obviously confused. Daesung was resting. Yes, he happened to be resting with no pants on and sure, for some reason he needed to listen to Seunghyun’s solo song…on repeat…to soothe himself into sweet dreams but Seunghyun still slept with a Kiroro nightlight so who was he to judge?

Then, things became less confusing. Or more confusing for Seunghyun, anyway. Because Daesung’s eyes were closed but he wasn’t snoring or drooling or doing any of the sleepy Daesung things he usually did. And his hand was moving; his whole _arm_ was moving. Slowly moving down, down, further and further and it became more and more difficult to be confused about what was going on. Then there was no mistaking, no confusing, no breathing. There was only Seunghyun staring, watching unblinkingly out the crack of the closet door, as Daesung’s hand and arm and body began to move rhythmically to the recorded sound of his own voice.

Oh God.

The first coherent thought that fluttered through Seunghyun’s mind was that the particular angle he had was self-censoring. It might have actually had more to do with the fact that—even without his pants—Daesung was still wearing one of his many pairs of Doraemon boxers. The kind made for prepubescent boys, so they fit him a little too snugly and realistically left almost nothing to Seunghyun’s imagination. Not that he wanted to imagine, of course. But not imagining was kind of difficult with Daesung’s face quickly spelling out the rest in bold, neon letters. Seunghyun had a perfect view for that. Every instinct he had told him to shut his eyes and think about kimchi but he didn’t, he couldn’t. He could barely even remember to blink.

His mind was on replay, just like his song. _This can’t be. This is Daesung. This can’t be. This is_ Daesung.

Daesung didn’t do this. Well, obviously he did but not in Seunghyun’s mind. Or he hadn’t, until now. If Seunghyun had been cynical like Jiyong or logical like Youngbae, or even if he had full belief in the obvious like Seungri, he probably would’ve been less shocked. After all, Daesung was a boy. A _man_. And what boy-man doesn’t do…this? It’s only natural and reasonable that Daesung would do it, just like Jiyong and Youngbae and Seungri and Seunghyun too; actually, Seunghyun probably did it enough for all of them. But it wasn’t like they watched each other do it, at least not that Seunghyun was aware of. He shuffled through some of the odd shreds of conversations he’d caught over the years and suddenly felt horrified at their potential double meaning.

No, no—Seunghyun stopped himself. Of course they didn’t watch each other. If any of the other’s had been in his position right now they would be just as shocked as he was, and if he was seeing any other member...the thought of watching their leader or their mother hen or their magnae like this…Seunghyun felt his brain would start disintegrating if he let those images fester. Really then, he had no choice but to focus completely on the room and the bed and his preoccupied dongsaeng.

The first thing Seunghyun really saw were Daesung’s legs. Baked-brown and full of taunt muscles, making little spastic motions and digging into the sheets like they were trying to burrow there. Seunghyun began to wonder what those tensed muscles would feel like under his palms—what they would feel like tangled with his own gangly legs.

He recoiled from himself with disgust. It would feel like shame and dirty and wrong wrong wrong; that’s what it would feel like. Seunghyun shook his head empathically, trying to clear his confusions away. Daesung, oblivious to the crisis he was causing his hyung, took this opportunity to start moaning softly. In response, all oxygen rushed back to him and Seunghyun’s chest sucked in tight.

The first one _almost_ wasn’t a moan; it was soft and sweet like a purr that got caught in Daesung’s throat. His chest was rising and falling erratically and as Seunghyun followed the rhythm with his own lungs he suddenly noticed that Daesung was still wearing a sweatshirt. In fact, his unoccupied hand was clutching at the thick fabric as if he were trying to simultaneously tear it away from and absorb it into his skin. Seunghyun thought that print looked familiar—had he seen it at a store somewhere?—but then Daesung was definitely moaning and Seunghyun couldn’t even remember what day it was or why he had a shiny purple jacket in a vice grip. He was sure those things were totally unimportant anyway. Nothing was important anymore except for Daesung and Daesung and Daesung.

 _Daesung._ Already-tiny eyes disappearing into the tight wrinkles of his face. His face, perpetually carefree and full of joy, now cracked with deep marks of something farther from innocence that anything Seunghyun knew ever. Had Daesung always been able to make the bottom of his stomach drop out? Had he always been so electric, so captivating? Seunghyun wondered why he hadn’t known for sure before.

Daesung’s hand moved faster now; past the rhythm of the song like he couldn’t even hear it anymore. Seunghyun knew what that changed pace meant. He ignored how unexpectedly restrictive his own sweatpants had become and focused instead on not choking with each breath of the room’s thick air. Daesung moaned low—sucking his bottom lip into his mouth—and Seunghyun's throat filled with the air he’d forgotten to swallow.

Then Daesung’s body went rigid, contorted, and somewhere else someone was still fighting over something but all Seunghyun could hear was Daesung.

He held his breath until the end, until Daesung’s body unclenched and bounced back onto the mattress with a tired thud. Then he blinked and exhaled and with his eyes shut he just barely caught Daesung’s last line.

“…hyung.”

\---

A brown arm waving a white washcloth popped out from the hallway. “Hyungs, is it safe to come out now?” From their cuddly position on the sofa Jiyong and Youngbae glanced up curiously.

“I just want a glass of water before I go to bed,” the disembodied arm continued. “I’d get it from the bathroom but Seunghyun-hyung rushed in after Seungri got out and he’s been in the shower _forever_ now. I promise I won’t bother you and you can go back to fighting again once I leave. I mean, if that is what you want. Or whatever. I don’t judge hyungs’ relationship.” Jiyong and Youngbae looked at each other, eyes narrowing in amusement.

“Daesung, it’s fine,” Youngbae called out reassuringly. “We’re finished.”

“Hmph. Speak for yourself.” Jiyong screwed up his face petulantly and dug his back deeper into Youngbae’s side. “You still owe me a make-up favor.”

“I don’t owe you anything.” Jiyong looked scandalized. Daesung, still vaguely uncomfortable and highly skeptical, stood in the common room now but not by much. Youngbae smiled apologetically at him. “Sorry about all this.”

“Dong Youngbae, don’t you apologize to him because you know that you are just going to do the exact same thing the next time.” Clearly, Jiyong was still prickly. Youngbae sighed—though not in a terribly burdened way—and motioned Daesung towards the kitchen. He scurried away, not needing to be told twice.

When he came back waterglass-in-hand Youngbae was rubbing Jiyong’s knee soothingly. Momentarily distracted (and relieved) by the renewed domestic calm, Daesung wasn’t really watching where he was walking and almost spilled his water all over Seunghyun—which admittedly wouldn’t have done too much damage since he’d just finally gotten out of the shower only to suddenly appear in front of Daesung.

“Ah, hyung!” Daesung caught himself just in time. For his part, Seunghyun seemed to have been more dazed by his shower than cleaned by it. He just stood there, mouth lightly slack and eyelids falling and rising in a slow, stupid kind of way. Daesung waited for his expected rash comeback but it didn’t come so he continued, chidingly. “Hyung, you should be more careful. I didn’t see you at all…”

At this, an alarmed expression flashed across Seunghyun’s face. “What do you mean? I wasn’t anywhere where you could have seen me! It wasn’t like I was hiding on purpose or something! It was an honest mistake!” The intensity of his reaction visibly shook Daesung; he didn’t know what to say to that or really even what it was supposed to mean. Luckily, Jiyong made the response for him.

“Can you guys keep your bickering down, please? We’re trying to watch T.V. over here.”

Seunghyun and Daesung stared awkwardly at each other for several seconds before simultaneously answering:

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Daesung tried to move past Seunghyun who kept matching his steps until they looked like the world’s most unsuccessful dancing team. Starting and stopping and making no progress, Daesung finally grabbed Seunghyun by the arms and rotated them until their positions were switched. It may have just been his imagination, but Daesung thought that Seunghyun flinched when he touched him.

“Well, goodnight hyung!” Daesung tried to ease his hyung’s weird behavior by offering his usual cheerful nighttime words. “Hope you have sweet dreams!”

“I will,” Seunghyun responded abruptly and with, Daesung thought, a hint of guilt. “But nothing inappropriate! In case you were concerned! Because I’m not that kind of person, Daesung! I hope you know that!”

Whatever kind of person Daesung thought his hyung was he was fairly sure that Seunghyun had had ‘inappropriate’ dreams before. He was also fairly sure that Seunghyun had slipped and hit his head in the shower so he let this slide.

“I know, Seunghyun-hyung,” Daesung was already delicately moving away from him. “Anyway, goodnight!”

“Yes, okay,” Seunghyun fidgeted indecisively for a moment. “Goodnight too, Daesung!”

On the sofa Jiyong and Youngbae exchanged odd looks.

\---

Jiyong and Youngbae watched Seunghyun shuffle off to bed—his shoulders hunched—their cartoon show still playing in the background. Down the hallway they heard a door shut and Jiyong waited a half-second before casually bringing things up.

“What was _that_ all about?”

Youngbae shrugged. “Who knows. They’re always strange.” With a parental tone he added, “It’s none of our business anyway.”

Jiyong sniffed. “It is totally _my_ business since I am this group’s leader and any inter-group conflicts should be brought to my attention.” Youngbae made a noncommittal noise. The T.V. became the loudest sound in the room once again.

“Oh my God,” Jiyong broke the peaceful silence and Youngbae jumped a bit. “You don’t think it’s something like…with sex or something, do you?” Even with just the glow of the screen lighting his face, Youngbae could still see the perverse delight that suggestion gave Jiyong.

Youngbae shook his head sensibly, responding with certainty. “The day those two do something about sex is the day you and I do something about it too.” He chuckled at his own outlandish prediction.

Beside him, Jiyong stared intently at the television screen and didn’t answer. After a minute or two quiet settled over the room again and they finished their program without any more absurd conversations.


	2. Give + Take--Seunghyun’s Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seunghyun finds out that turnabout is not, in fact, fair play.

Seunghyun wasn't sure how it had happened, but no one else was home. Jiyong and Youngbae had gone out for lunch, Daesung was with his Family until tomorrow, and who even knew where Seungri'd gone this time. It didn't matter though. All that mattered was that he was alone in their hostel and that was rare so he needed to use his opportunity as thoroughly as possible.

Not that he needed an empty apartment for what he planned on doing—he had his own room after all—but it didn't hurt as far as precautions went. He called out into the silent hallway one last time, just to check, then closed his door and pushed in the lock.

His bed was the same as he’d left it this morning, obviously since it wasn’t as though they had housekeepers or anything. It was true that he was lazy and didn’t see bed-making as a necessary chore, but nowadays he mostly left his sheets in disarray to annoy the incessantly nagging Youngbae. He hung his jacket up neatly in his closet—his jackets were the only things he really made an effort to be neat about—right beside that purple-sequined one he had yet to actually wear.

That jacket. It had been nearly a month since Seunghyun had borrowed it without consent from Daesung’s closet. Nearly a month since he’d hidden—well really, been _trapped_ —in that closet. Nearly a month since he’d seen Daesung doing _things_ to himself with Seunghyun’s solo as mood music. Nearly a month and Seunghyun hadn’t been able to purge that image of Daesung shaking, moaning, _writhing_ from his mind. Nearly a month that he hadn’t really wanted to purge it all.

Not that that image hadn’t caused him problems. For one, he hadn’t been able to be alone with Daesung comfortably since. It wasn’t that he was disgusted or anything, it was just that whenever they were alone he couldn’t keep his mind from wondering down roads that always ended with abrupt and awkward trips to the bathroom. Daesung probably thought Seunghyun was upset with him. That or he had some kind of bladder infection.

And this problem had started to spread. He wouldn’t sit next to Daesung in interviews or stand next to him on stage because the proximity made him acutely aware of Daesung’s body. Their last attempt at fan service had failed spectacularly, with Seunghyun practically shoving a teary-faced Daesung away from him. He spent half an hour in the bathroom after that one. This was really getting bad.

It was in that particular bathroom that he’d—among other things—decided what he was going to do. Or try to do, anyway. He’d been determined to do it that night but then he’d gotten distracted by something—he couldn’t remember what, something to do with food maybe?—and then it’d been forgetting and exhaustion and more distractions until today when it was just an empty hostel and him. No time would be better than right now.

He tossed his pants into his kind of-worn clothes pile on the floor. Despite all Youngbae’s complaints there was actually a method to his messiness. He grabbed his mp3 player off his desk and dropped onto his bed, sinking into the well-maintained cocoon of fabric. After maneuvering his sweatshirt hood over his headphones he leaned back, hit play and closed his eyes.

A perky beat swum into his ears carrying Daesung’s image with it. Seunghyun reached down hastily to the waistband of his boxers.

Daesung grinning and laughing and gently, sweetly clinging to Seunghyun. Daesung’s eyes, thin lines of glee etched into his face. Daesung bouncing or skipping or touching. Daesung as the happiness of Big Bang, sparking like glass marbles in the sun, capturing Seunghyun in his light. Seunghyun rubbed himself through the fabric, his hand shaking slightly.

Daesung in the darkness, the quiet moments. Not dull not blinding, just glowing. Daesung’s agile legs and long fingers, absently stretching and tapping while he concentrated on something else. Daesung’s lips, pouting and pursed and just-licked and glistening. Daesung’s face that everyone else said was ugly or silly or childish or cute…Seunghyun panted as he finally wrapped his hand around himself.

Then it all came to a screeching, disastrous halt. Over the playful melody that voice boomed, all dazzle and no desire:

“Hellooooooooo! I am Daesuuuuuuuung!” The heat that had been building near the bottom of Seunghyun’s stomach dissolved completely. Maniacal laughter echoed in his headphones. He pulled his hand out of his boxers and opened his eyes.

“Yeah,” he sighed in resignation. “This isn’t going to work.” And he pressed stop.


End file.
